Into the Inferno
by tayziconable
Summary: Damaged by their conflicting pasts, Johanna and Gale are seemingly thrust together by fate. Even before they unintentionally cave to their lustful tendencies, however, they feel their relationship becoming something more, and rise from the ashes together.
1. Chapter 1: The Train

Ch. 1— The Train

_"Your cousin's not afraid of me," she says confidently. She scoots off my bed and crosses to the door, nudging Gale's leg with her hip as she passes him. "Are you, gorgeous?" We can hear her laughter as she disappears down the hall._

_"Terrified," he mouths._

Gale jolted into consciousness abruptly, urgently glancing around. He was still on the Capitol train, speeding towards District 2. He scowled, aware that he drifted into another dream, a distant memory; unfortunately, he couldn't keep her off his mind. As he had agreed to travel out to the corrupted wasteland with the rebels and rebuild a broken district, they were decent enough to provide him with a small apartment, not too far from the wreckage of the mountain, so he could assist in reconstruction. However, it was mandatory that he shared the limited space with another "soldier" to his liking— and he chose Johanna Mason.

Gale Hawthorne felt as though he needed some familiar face nearby; she was the only name on the roster that he could recall to memory. Nevertheless, he wasn't quite certain as to how it would be living with her; she had the capacity, and the tendency, to be a real pain when she wanted to be. He barely knew her, but he was hoping she'd accept him as more of an old friend than an awkward acquaintance. It was this muddled combination of eagerness and anxiety that clouded up his brain and doused his thoughts with old memories of her.

However, at the same time, he was direly grateful for this; it could pose as the perfect distraction from Katniss, and that was all he desired. No matter how much he attempted to seal out the images in his mind, her betrayal, his misery, the emptiness gnawing incessantly at his gut, it was impossible. Her face was always lurking in the recesses of his mind, but not accompanied by adoration. For no matter what the Capitol did, how many people they had played with or destroyed for entertainment's sake, he had to face the truth: he had always been a piece in Katniss's games, and she could be a vicious game maker. Gale was still haunted by a fondness for her, as that type of admiration doesn't just diminish on its own, but he was tearing apart from her, engulfed in his own agony. He had no earthly idea how to feel.

So he just left. Deep down, he knew he was wrong for abandoning his childhood best friend in such hard times, but what she did was nearly unforgivable in his eyes. And who could blame him for being such a jerk if they had dared take one step in his weathered shoes? He wasn't planning to wait on her while she sat languidly and pondered who the better kisser was, while she decided who was worth her precious time, while she used him like garbage. Although it was definite in his mind that he was being unfair, he just required an escape. And the ruins of District 2 would be that release. Katniss and him had been growing apart for a long time anyways.

The train screeched to a cacophonous yet easy stop, and Gale, along with half the passengers, wandered off, lost in a thriving, wriggling sea of unpredictable people. He was in a mindless daze as he trudged towards his new home, a twisted knot of nerves wrenching inside of him. He remembered Johanna distinctly— well, both Johannas, that is. He couldn't dispose of the image of the skeletal, wiry, abused girl he encountered in the Capitol during the rescue, porcelain and trembling, eyes wide and frantic with fear; her colorless lips were pressed into a thin silver line, as if they might burst with shrieks of the horrors she'd witnessed at any moment. However, that was also tethered to the picture of Johanna Mason he'd befriended in District 13: toughened, rambunctious, humorous, and filled with sly remarks ready to spit out at anyone in her way. He could clearly recognize that she was concealing her pain, but grew to like her; he took entertainment in her fiery jokes, returned her playful teasing and flirting— even though it tended to make Katniss quite fussy. Which he was useless to understand, considering the way she tended to act.

By the time the troubled young man reached the apartment, floating like a specter past the rubble of the mountain, which still belched obsidian smoke ceaselessly, he was absolutely exhausted. Dropping his bags limply in the doorway, he stumbled towards the couch, too lazy to drag himself off the furniture even to close the door. Nonetheless, he didn't have to. Mere minutes flowed by before the door slammed shut on its own hinges, an echoing bang that rattled his ribcage and brought him to his senses. Gale leapt from the sofa in a state of panic, blood battering the insides of his head, and swiveled only to face her.

Instead of an unexpected intruder, Johanna Mason looked him square in the eye and let her luggage collapse onto the floor as well.

All of Gale's previous neurotic thoughts ebbed away. A hint of an amused smirk presented itself on her full lips. "Hey gorgeous. Nice seeing you again."


	2. Chapter 2: The Fight

**A/N: So, I don't feel like it's neccessary to do a disclaimer, since I obviously do not own the Hunger Games, nor its characters, but here one is regardless. xD Last chapter could be considered a preface/prologue in a way, as it's shorter than the rest... anyways, please stick with me on this, I guarantee it becomes more exciting... especially in chapter 3 ;) So, that is my author's note, continue reading x)**

Ch.2— The Fight

"Anything for you?" she giggled as she asked it with a fake saccharine voice and batted her eyelashes. She poured some cheap wine into a miniature glass.

"Nah, just water," Gale shrugged nonchalantly, though he couldn't resist a miniscule smile at her behavior.

One would assume, by the way she sauntered over with a sultry sway in her hips as she clutched the drinks in her hands, that she was completely carefree and perhaps even a tad bit devious. True, she had improved greatly since their last meeting, but Gale saw through the façade. It leaked through as she handed him the glass; the series of tremors that ran up her arm every time the water ventured too close to the edge of the cup, threatening to spill over onto her roughened fingertips.

After they had spent the last half-week living together, they had allowed themselves to unwind slightly, and were more comfortable and casual with each other; no doubt they appreciated each other's friendship. Unfortunately, with this new closeness, came a random arsenal of crude taunting and irritating accusations from Johanna; it was beginning to wear thin on Gale. For some unknown reason, she had been nagging him endlessly, but not in the same way he had known her to do so in District 13. Not only was it extensively more often, but now there was a light tinge of a pout every time she teased him; it seemed to be pity, but whether or not it was meant for herself or him, he had no idea. Regardless, this irregular behavior was growing old, fast. In fact, Johanna had just flopped onto the sofa and they were exchanging good-hearted japes when the banter started up again. Great.

"So Gale, how's the Kitty Kat?" she snickered. "Has she called yet?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Johanna." Gale's tone was instantly stone hard and frigid. From the way Johanna talked about her, she seemed nearly jealous; but Gale was aware this was a senseless accusation and notion. What did Katniss have that she would ever want so badly? "And no, she hasn't called."

Before he left for District 2, Gale had experienced half-hearted emotions, and allowed the telephone number for his new apartment to be provided for Katniss, just in case she ever desired to call. But the phone remained still and silent, flaunting its coat of dust from disuse. Sometimes, a part of him wondered if she ever considered calling. But the rest of him hoped he'd never talk to her again.

"I'm sorry, that must really suck," she mumbled, downing the shot of inexpensive alcohol. "I'd be bummed too if I were you, knowing she's probably screwing bread-for-brains every night."

Gale created a guttural noise of contempt. "Be quiet, Johanna. You don't get it at all."

"It's not my fault everyone I cared about is dead," she shrugged. "You can hardly be upset with me just because there's no way to hurt me anymore."

"Don't pretend like you don't care. Even I, of all people, know you better than that," Gale retorted, and then, with a sharp burst of anger, replied, "and I believe the Capitol still left people with ways to hurt you."

Gale dipped his hand gently into the glass of water and then flipped it up, splaying his fingers wide open; crystalline drops of water were flicked across Johanna's face.

She bolted away from him and snarled, glaring with the fury of a madwoman. And spontaneously, she was the girl he'd known way back then. Since then, her pallor had surely subsided, and she had gained back some of the weight that had been missing from her sickly, bony figure since the torture, though she still appeared extremely skinny. Her hair had grown out, the longest of the strands extending to her shoulders, and it was still sort of spiky like before, though more ruffled. It lacked luster, but had maintained the warm chestnut-brown hue it always had. Yet, underneath all of the differences and her healthier appearance, the old Johanna was still in there, clawing her way out. The one who was annihilated inside by the Capitol, and who's shattered pieces could never be fully restored. It came to his attention that whatever was eating away at her now, for whatever reason she was acting in this fashion, he cared about her, and as her friend, he needed to find out what was wrong before willingly flooding her with memories of her own near-demise.

In actuality, he was about to apologize, but he suddenly preoccupied himself with observing the wary look she was giving him. She looked, in all honesty, like a hateful, bedraggled kitten would if you attempted to give it a bath. And before he could contain himself, he chuckled loudly.

"What?" she snapped, her dark eyes narrowing to flustered and furious slits. "What about this is funny?"

"Watch out, I might need to call Finnick to dunk you again before you go off on another crazed tangent," he said with a sadistic smile, remembering the humorous event he had watched on television during the Quarter Quell; but he instantly regretted saying it.

"Finnick's dead, asshole." Johanna bit her lip, her eyes brimming with tears. "Okay, I'm sorry for what I said to you. But do you think everything I went through was fun? Do you think I enjoyed watching everyone I love die? Do you think I cherished every second of being turned into a fearful, unlovable, disgusting, and _terribly ugly_ mutt?"

"Oh, shut up, Johanna. You're always beautiful. You know that."

Suddenly, the room fell into an empty abyss of silence. Yet it wasn't stuffy, it was ominously open. A crimson rouge blossomed across her cheekbones, so light that it was barely detectable, but obviously Gale noticed; it was the most color he'd seen grace her face in ages. She glanced away, unable to meet the glare in his silver eyes. However, the impact of what he said registered in his own mind stronger than it ever could in Johanna's. Gale swallowed hard, his expression unreadable and incomprehensible, a difficult lump forming in his throat.

"I'm going to shower…" Gale's nervous murmur trailed off as he quickly left, his footsteps loudly slapping the stairs as he ascended. Johanna stood frozen in place, quiet as a phantom, as she tried to grasp what all of it could mean. She felt terrible and guilty for what she'd said, but deep down, it was all because of her jealousy for Katniss. More specifically, the attention she received from Gale. Johanna couldn't be ascertained as to why the emotion was so powerful, as she couldn't determine how she really felt about him. However, under all of the confusion and befuddlement, it was impossible to deny the attraction she felt. What else would explain the way that teasing each other simply as humble friends was never enough for her? How every second she was alone and desolate, her mind always wandered astray to him? How, although he had only been an acquaintance, she already trusted him with so much?

Of course, she had frequently believed she would never inform Gale of this jealousy. Yet now, still suspended in the wake of the shock of what he said, she could feel herself mentally letting him in. After so many years of hardening herself, building an impenetrable wall of hatred since the day all of her loved ones were slaughtered, she felt herself falling in love like a foolish waste-of-space schoolgirl. She had sworn to herself that she would never become attached ever again. However, this time, she didn't block any inch of him out of her troubled mind. For the first time in a long time, she felt the detest and envy in her mind fading away, realizing that with all of this, she finally had a chance.

Meanwhile, Gale permitted the cool droplets of water to sting his flesh, refreshing him. The icy dribbles of the pure, clear liquid trickled across his olive skin, flowing down every taut muscle in his body. He slapped his face cautiously, trying to find a single point of focus for his mind to dwell upon. So immediately, he tried to think of Katniss. He attempted to carry the anguish of his past, how she had played him, all of his bottled emotions, to the surface. As he pondered all the horrors he'd been through, as the water continued to wash away the excess of all he felt and renew him, he was confronted with an image. It was Johanna's face, back downstairs, with a blush spreading across her face and a silent smile in her eyes.

And suddenly, it came to his attention that no matter how much he tried to think of Katniss, he couldn't care less.


	3. Chapter 3: The Shower

**A/N: I don't really have much to say... as you may have assumed, I still don't own the Hunger Games... I suppose I should give some sort of warning about this chapter but it's really not terribly explicit...**

Ch. 3— The Shower

Gale awoke slowly and unsurely to the sound of a worrisome voice downstairs; this person was trying to speak quietly, but her fretting only magnified every noise she made. Curiously attracted to this one-sided conversation, he sloppily picked himself from the bed, rolling out of a makeshift toga of bedsheets and brushing away the layers of fabric as he rose.

He trodded heavily down the stairs, wearing a pair of loose grey sweatpants and a flimsy white shirt that was wrinkled and mussed from being slept in; though he knew Johanna couldn't be too concerned with his appearance. He heard the distant click of a phone as he turned the corner.

Johanna stood stiffly in the kitchen of the apartment, chewing the corner of her lip and sipping bittersweet coffee, laced with so little creamer it appeared nearly black. She looked a little unraveled, as though nightmares had physically dilapidated her. Regardless, there was a soundless eloquence about her, as though she were all made-up; this was odd, considering she was clad only in an oversized T-shirt, and he noticed it was his own. The situation struck him as strange, but the pair did share laundry duties, so he accepted it without so much as a disturbance in his thoughts. Not to mention she had always been one for wearing next-to-nothing, anyways. He stepped closer to her, and she peered up at him, her brown eyes glistening like garnets.

"Well, who was that?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"It was Annie," she sighed, looking perplexed. "The doctors think that the baby's fine, but she's just having really strong contractions and— and she just really needs a friend right now." Her voice was strewn with uneasiness.

Gale randomly recognized that her "eloquence" most likely came from the fact he'd never seen her so concerned for anyone's safety besides her own in the past. So, with no exact reason or machination behind it, he clasped her arm and pulled her into a tight embrace. She seemed startled, but never forced him away; instead, it appeared as though she relaxed, her body loosening slowly against his own.

In the week since the argument and realizations, there had been no spats, no fights, and the teasing disappeared almost entirely, if it wasn't just humorous, that is. And even though this new curve in their friendship was greatly smiled-upon and appreciated, Johanna had forced a matter of reality, even if it wasn't true, into her head. Doubt thrived in her mind like a cancer. _So what if he called you beautiful, _she'd think_. He loves Katniss. He probably always will. Don't get your hopes up; don't dare make a move on him, until you're positive the slim chance he could want you too is the only truth. _Nevertheless, she grew closer to him each day, without so much as trying.

"I'm going out there by train to see her," Johanna informed him as she slipped out of the embrace.

As Gale was absorbing this information, his nose flinched, and he unintentionally cut her off. "Um, Johanna, when's the last time you bathed?"

"Uh, right before I got here… from what I'm told the rebels drugged me and washed me off while I was unconscious," she says it with a sardonic humor. "Their therapists seem more devoted to a sniveling Mockingjay's mental problems than my own. Oh well. Why do you ask?"

"Uh, no offense Johanna… but you're starting to smell…" he declared, reaching to scratch the back of his head, hoping his words wouldn't earn him a slap.

"Ooh, that's the best compliment I've ever received," she snorted. "You sure know how to flatter the ladies, don't you, gorgeous?" At least she was acting facetious about it.

He permitted a small laugh, but was struck with a tremendously alien idea. "When are you leaving for Annie's?"

"Eh, most likely late tonight or early tomorrow morning… I need the rest, but I want to be there as early as I can, you know?" she answered.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, a smug grin stretching across his features, "Well, Annie's going to have to wait until tomorrow, because I need you for tonight."

"And why is that?" she asked, propping her hand in the crook of her hip and producing a look of disapproval.

"Because I'm going to help you get over your fear of water," he boasted confidently, looking positively full of himself. Johanna could only stifle her laughter.

"Good luck with that," she replied, lifting a thin eyebrow and slurping some more coffee, clearly not taking his claim seriously.

"I'm serious!" he exclaimed, a different gleam in his warm grey eyes this time. "Meet me upstairs in the bathroom. You can wear a swimsuit or something, if you want."

"Whatever you say, gorgeous," she said, making playful swatting motions as she waved his gestures away. But he saw that glint in her eyes, among the various shards of light, which reminded him of the Hunger Games victor she truly was. Ruthless and cunning, if so required. It was the manner that returned to her whenever she would say something particularly snide, even if it wasn't directed towards him. However, the look she wore now was neither cruel nor suggestive; it was challenging. And for a mysterious cause, this challenge filled Gale with an exuberant fuel. He followed her as closely as he could up the stairs.

Gale Hawthorne was still adjusting the water as he sat fully clothed on the edge of the bathtub, by the time Johanna entered. She was wearing a vividly turquoise bikini bottom, which clung to her far too tightly, and a lacy, frilled bra, flawlessly white as marble. Gale did a double take, and couldn't help but admire the way the skimpy clothing gripped her figure; he caught himself and realized he probably stared at her chest a moment too long.

Johanna clearly noticed this error too. "What now?" she demanded without anger.

"That's a really nice swimsuit, Johanna," he covered, amusement in his asphalt eyes.

"Oh, do I ever apologize for my wardrobe choice! I've simply been too busy to do my summer shopping yet!" she mimicked, imitating a high-pitched Capitol accent.

Both of them found this hilarious, easing the tension in the room. Unfortunately, Gale found it necessary to ruin it. "Hmm, what temperature of water did they use to torture you with?"

"All kinds," Johanna stammered, caught off guard. "But cool water, usually… just slightly chilly…"

Gale glanced back, immediately wishing he hadn't. Her chocolate eyes had widened extensively, and a thin sheen of perspiration had formed across her neck and breasts, tiny drops of sweat trickling down her ribcage. She had reached up to rub her neck, but found herself gripping her own jutting collarbone, clawing the flesh anxiously. A pang of guilt hit him. "Hot water it is…"

"Gale, do I have to do this?" she stuttered, reminding him of how she so cleverly won her games by pretending to be a weakling, frail and harmless. However, now it appeared she wasn't only faking it. His brow furrowed, and he sighed as he tested the water.

"Yes. You can't go on living like this, Johanna."

The young woman thoughtfully observed her own fingernails, suddenly catching sight of a layer of grimy dust beneath them. "Maybe you're right…" she winced, revolted. Obviously as one who had participated in two Hunger Games, bathing daily had never been a profound necessity. But no one enjoyed being filthy, and Johanna was on the verge of disgust.

Though they both wanted to waste more time in conversation, meandering away from what they were faced with, they could not. "Water's ready, Johanna."

A spontaneous tightness constricted her chest, and she found it next to impossible to breathe. Eyes sealed firmly shut, the quivering girl placed both feet solidly in the basin, teethed clenched so hard her gums nearly bled. She backed away from the puddle that had formed during the bath setting, before Gale had switched the shower faucet on. It mercilessly freed its onslaught of spray, mocking her vulnerability. She tried to pull it together before Gale entered; no one had ever seen her so helpless before.

"I'll be in, just give me a second, Johanna," he called out, but his voice was a distant echo in her ears, drowned out by her throbbing heart.

Not assured by her lack of response, he peeled off every article of clothing and speedily vaulted into the shower— completely naked, that is.

His arms engulfed her as soon as they could, and he yanked her body against his from behind. It was these arms that pulled her haphazardly into reality, which tethered her to the earth and restored her sense. She was only in a shower, with Gale, who would surely protect her. A deep breath of the steamy air filled her lungs, and she permitted temporary comfort to consume her. His warm skin against her back did nothing to provoke her thoughts— he was most reasonably in a swimsuit too, right?

However, as soon as he took the first step forward, Johanna's teeth took up noisily chattering and her body tensed up once more. With every slight shove forwards, even though Gale was still holding her, resulted in more thorough shaking and the occasional leg spasm. Johanna remained in denial, trying to rip her tattered thoughts out of the fear sloshing about in her head. And before she knew it, she was directly under the faucet.

The first few drops weren't so sufferable. Yet, the longer she forced herself to endure the fountain splashing across her soft skin, the sharper each drop felt, until a rain of pinpoint needles was penetrating her all over. Johanna was hopelessly caught in a swarm of tracker-jackers, each blistering sting inflicting its own painful range of terrors. After a minute, each individual trickle was accompanied by a miniature shock the instant the stream hit her body. Electric currents ran rapidly throughout her bloodstream; every vein snapped with energy, each tendon crackled with the powerful static. Each muscle, already strained, ached with further tension, on the verge of bursting.

Johanna shook her head, trying to clear the steady electrical buzz from her ears and calm her thoughts, yet all she could think of, oddly enough, was dragging herself unwillingly into the pounding sheets of rain each day in District 13. But at least there, regardless of the torrents, she had fresh, pure air, a wide expanse of space, and her personal favorite, a definite span of escape routes. In this claustrophobic, eerily clean space, Johanna was entirely restricted, and engulfed in an unnerving nostalgia. She fidgeted slightly, and found herself locked in an unfamiliar iron grasp, restrained once more. In this agitated state, Gale's strong arms, which had previously shielded her from her memories, were nothing but an obstacle to contain her. In her eyes, he may as well have been another deadpan, heartless, disposable Peacekeeper. She was trapped. Reliving the torture once more. All at once, free of any warning, she erupted, and all hell broke loose.

Writhing spasmodically, her whole being was conquered by waves of tremors. Her chest heaved insanely, choking for air, wracked by breathless sobs; every ounce of her twisted and contorted as she tried to break free. Each muscle in her body rioted against Gale's control; her limbs flailed out every time she shuddered and shivered, even as she repeatedly tried to budge Gale, whacking his sides with her bone-hard elbows as she screamed. Mottled shrieks, stirred together with shrill, almost mechanical screeches and heavy wailing, tore themselves from her ashen lips.

Horrified and astonished, Gale gritted his teeth and locked his jaw, gripped her thin wet body, and spun around on his heels, nearly slipping himself. On the way, Johanna's foot snagged the shower curtain as she kicked in shallow attempts to find purchase, and her whole leg became entangled. In the ludicrous scramble following, the pair toppled over and collided with the sopping wet floor. Before the terrified and crazed woman could clamber away, Gale fastened his arms around her a final time, leaning over her and completely blocking any liquid from spattering near her with his broad-shouldered frame. He covered her in his bare flesh, shushing her and whispering petty reassurances in her ear.

Johanna temporarily blacked out, her field of vision dimming; by the time the blood returned to her head and her clumsy eyelids fluttered open, she was all too aware and ashamed of what had occurred.

"Gale, I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to…" she began softly, as her quaking ceased.

"It's fine," he breathed, still shocked and disheveled from the short tussle.

"You're lying," she stated matter-of-factly, and looked up to meet his gaze. Glimmering droplets bejeweled her dark fringes of eyelash, but whether they were water or tears, he couldn't tell.

"Well, what did you want me to do?" he teased, managing a smile. "Tell you how much of a pain you are?" Gale created a beckoning motion, and peeking over her right shoulder, Johanna took in a view of everything on his right side above his bellybutton. This provided her with a view of the purplish bruises, dark like smudged ink stains, already forming across his abdomen from her battery.

She tried to produce a laugh but failed miserably, the guilt masticating her. Johanna never usually minded hurting people, though it was never her intention, but this truly bothered her. She believed it must be just because she harmed someone trying to help her. She grimaced, inhaling a slow, shaky breath. "You won't tell anyone else, will you?"

They both knew how mortifying it would be to have anyone know of the event, how enraged and weak she could become in seconds. "Do you really think I'm that much of a gossip?" he inquired.

"I knew there was at least one reason I liked you, gorgeous," she snickered, the fear draining from her. Gale gave her a brief squeeze, and started to stand unsteadily, dragging her upright as well. The two stumbled a bit, but balanced themselves out. He began to unwind his arms from around her, but she clenched them tightly and pushed them back against her, her knuckles white.

"Don't," she said, that pleading tone sneakily creeping into her voice once more, yet it was fully sincere. "Don't let me go. Just hold me. It helps."

Shrugging, Gale never questioned her motives. "I think we're going to try this a different way," he suggested, "Since last time worked out so well."

Gale leaned backwards, the spray drenching his shoulders alone. Johanna's body flinched when she felt the first dribble maneuver off his collarbone, crawling down his chest to perch on her shoulders. However, after adjusting to the first few occurrences, the sensation was almost soothing. She soaked her mind with thoughts only of Gale, reminiscing in the rivulets cascading off of his hot skin. His heated, moistened flesh pressed even closer against hers. They held each other tighter as the steaming yet not scalding liquid encased them, draping them in a sparkling crystal cloak; it was beautiful. Growing at ease, Johanna found herself feeling undeniably whole, in a way even she had never experienced before.

However, this irresistible closeness and heat in its entirety was proving regrettable for Gale, and it didn't help that Johanna's bra was so saturated with water that it was nearly translucent. So, as much as he tried to prevent it, the natural reaction took place; in a state of panic, he tried to back away from Johanna, but in moving apart he allowed a stray shower of water to splatter against her shoulder blades. She twitched and reached back at Gale for support, clasping his hipbones with her nimble fingers— _only_ his hipbones.

"What the hell…" she whispered, opening her palms and carefully stroking behind her; there was an expanse of slick skin, but her hands caressed no fabric. She trailed her fingers downwards, following the thin rivers of water dripping in whorls down his body and pooling beneath him, and paused when her wandering hands touched the insides of his lower thighs. Suddenly, the realization pummeled into her like a ton of bricks. Unfortunately, she now also knew what had been prodding her back.

"Oh my god!" she cried out, wrestling herself from his grasp. She ducked behind him as she wrenched free of his arms, one hand still clasped onto his wrist; though it wasn't on purpose, this action spun Gale directly into the shower wall, his face ricocheting off of the impenetrable surface. His lip started swelling instantaneously, and he could sense the rusty, salty flavor of blood mingling with his taste buds, permeating his mouth with the despicable taste of iron. Lightly touching his fingertips to the wound, he turned on his heels with a sense of caution, his mind not processing what had happened. The only thought present in his mind at that specific moment was how hand-to-hand combat appeared to be in her favor. Slowly, his eyes linked with hers.

"You're naked?" she yelled, her voice throaty with a ridiculous sense of disbelief.

"Um… surprise?" he interjected, raising his hands slightly in defense.

"Why the hell are you naked?" she spat. Gale couldn't tell if she was angry or enthralled in this state; only the adamant shock remained on her face.

"Well, I said you could wear a swimsuit if you wanted to. I never implied it was mandatory…"

"I thought the other option was clothes!" she said, perplexed.

"No? Who wears clothes in the shower? That's just weird," he replied. Clearly this wasn't the response she was searching for, as she pursed her lips. "Anyways, from what I've heard, Johanna, clothes don't seem to be your biggest priority either… unless that wasn't you oiling yourself up for nude wrestling during training, like so many people told me…"

This stumped her notoriously. "Well… stripping in training is different… and also if it's just for jokes… it's just that… well, you're you," she stuttered, flustered and trying to find an excuse that wouldn't give away how she felt.

"Good observation. I am, in fact, myself," Gale cackled, emphasizing his sarcasm. "I didn't think it'd upset you; rather, I thought the opposite." Gale threw in a phony wink, pathetically trying to flirt.

"Dear God, you are _such_ a smart ass," she slapped her palm to her forehead, sighing, and allowed it to rest there.

Spontaneously, his eyes widened enormously. "Johanna, you realize you've been standing in the water this whole time, don't you?"

A flurry of twitching spasms began in her legs, yet she held her position, refusing to move. Her head languidly rolled upwards, her mouth agape, as she consumed the scene. The water faucet released its constant downpour, but she was completely fine. No harm came to her, and as her bodily extremities were left numb with shock from the recent event, the sizzling droplets provided her with no memories of the inconceivable torture. Her entire body was trembling now, out of searingly painful habit, but she was grinning now. Nervously, she laughed.

"I guess you're right," she stated, and after a lengthy pause of just staring into each other's eyes with a sense of triumph, she admitted a small, "Thank you."

In the blink of an eye he had her wrapped in his arms once more as the two shared a breathless embrace. Johanna caught herself grappling to hang on to a thought that maybe, though the water she so feared would never fully exit her mind, she might finally be okay. Well, as close as she could manage. And once more, she owed it to him. A wave of guilt tumbled over her then; she was sorry for each time she'd taunted him, all of the recent times she started beating him in the shower, and even for being so worked up about the mere fact he wasn't wearing anything. Any girl with a crush would be unprepared and flustered, right? But she could sense this complicated situation sank far deeper than that, and what she was thinking slipped out before she could imprison it.

"You were right, you know," she voiced dreamily, tracing swirling patterns along his arm and shoulder with her finger as he kept her pressed against him, her ear directly above the thumping sound of his beating heart.

"About what?" he questioned, lost in the moment.

"That I'm not upset about you being naked. That maybe I enjoy it," she said, instantly wishing she could clap her hand over her mischievous mouth. "I'm sorry… shit, I didn't mean—"

Gale's lips crushing her own in a passionate kiss abruptly interrupted her, but it was over before she could relish in it.

His grey eyes were clouded over, overcome with some thought unknown to her, as he analyzed Johanna's face, trying to read into it. Trying to find out if she felt the same way he did, unable to express it in words.

Every fiber of her being screamed at her not to do it. Thoughts roiled and shifted inside of her, morphing her face into a mask of mixed emotion. She knew she was in love with Gale; she was beyond certain. However, that didn't affect his infatuations. So what if he helped her? He loved Katniss, not her, and she couldn't be convinced otherwise unless she knew he was over the girl on fire. No matter what, Johanna couldn't hurt herself so intensely again. She was permanently finished with the one-night stands, the careless lovemaking, and she was positive she'd never go back to that, even if she was faced with a depression or interest so severe it ate her alive. Johanna couldn't prove how Gale felt for anyone, so he may as well have been screwing girls left and right. They were both wrecks, in her eyes; but resistance was only a short struggle in vain. She did it anyways.

Reaching up on tiptoe, she took his bottom lip in hers and tugged him down with her hand planted on the back of his neck. It was too easy for both of them to delve into the raw pleasure, to toss all of the longing and desire aside. His tongue subtly flickered into her mouth as he swayed forwards to close the gap, and she nipped at his lips in return, grinding their bodies closer together. As Johanna grazed her lips gently across his jaw line and traced her tongue down his neck, mashing her mouth onto his collarbone and biting, she felt Gale's hands wandering and heard his light groaning. She instantly knew he was host to the same impatient hunger that possessed her. She sucked gently on the tender flesh under his jaws and nibbled on his earlobes, allowing him to undress her without so much as a second thought. Johanna laughed lightly into his ear, whispering something into it about them both being "damaged goods", her eyes igniting with amusement; this only tempted him to kiss her harder. They found themselves lost in each other, deserted in an inferno they were addicted to.

Both of their bare bodies found that it wasn't possible to soak up enough of this extravagant heat, the exquisite fire they each radiated. Gale had spent so much precious time and effort running from fire: the bomb he helped with that murdered Prim along with other innocent children, the blackened ashes of his abandoned home, each explosion from the gory war, and the girl on fire herself. Nonetheless, he was drawn to Johanna's flame like a moth, and he couldn't begin to discern why; it was different than any other he had ever encountered, startlingly contrasting. And Gale knew, with a dire intensity, how he felt about Johanna, even as his mind split with confusion.

Fervent. That's the only word that could describe how their limbs were intertwined, how they both clawed and clutched the tufts of each other's dark hair. It was the sole term that could explain the divine passion they kissed each other with, the single adjective that could be applied to every time they enveloped their lips around each other's flesh, licking and sucking. This word was present in each stroke, each loving caress. It expressed the urgency and rush to their mannerisms; how else would one describe how the proximity they had was never enough, without fervor? No matter how strongly they pressed against each other, Gale still required closer, closer than the boundaries or limits of skin itself. He needed to be inside of her, a piece of her. So, with one fluid motion, he grasped her by the waist and lifted her; her spindly legs entangled around him as her ankles crossed behind him at his rear. And then, he was.

Fighting fire with fire was only intended, as everyone has been told at some point, to create excessively larger fires. So evidently, it was shocking to contemplate how, as Gale and Johanna's blunt, fiery, vengeful, and even hateful personalities hurtled towards one another, they did not meet in apocalyptic flames. Somehow, they hovered perfectly in a balance of burning passion, which ate them alive, and tranquil serenity, which soothed their blistering spirits and held them together. Though they were the most unlikely of matches, their pairing was just crazy enough to work; they were all the other required for completion, for recovery, for existence alone. And this was the realization that confronted both of their minds as he pinned her wrists against the wet wall of the shower, exerting more vivid feelings with every rapid thrust, every unyielding heartbeat they shared. They didn't simply want each other lustfully— they needed each other.

Though all of these newly found realizations resided blissfully in her mind, her doubt began leaking through. Johanna shut out her conscience in peaceful ignorance. And Johanna stayed like this throughout the lovemaking, up until his breathtaking and exhilarating release. Gale retracted from her, but he was leaning on her again in seconds, having slumped against the wall. Neither of them could decipher which rivulets of moisture on the bodies were sweat and which were water, gasping in the steam. As Gale sweetly pecked her lips, Johanna jumped slightly, and the reality of her actions set in.

She just needed to hear him say it. But even then, how could she believe him? In the past, blind trust had always played traitor to her. _Just make sure he doesn't love Katniss, _she thought. _But why wouldn't he? Why would he love you? What are you, really, to him? _The world stopped spinning, and in that moment, she experienced each previous hook-up she'd put herself through, trying to find one way or another to endure the splintering pain of living. And as much as she was certain that she needed him to survive, that her fascination simply couldn't go unrequited, she couldn't terminate the voice in her brain suggesting he was only using her. If only she'd stayed concrete to her plan and been positive of his emotions, she wouldn't be so stricken with the situation. Johanna couldn't delete the fear she might have volunteered herself for another set of waxy mental scars. The sensible thing to do would've been to remain, regardless of worries and shame, and wait for an answer; instead, she found herself too alike to him, and sought only flight.

"I have to go," she said unsteadily; her voice was expressionless, but she kept blinking away the tears brimming beneath her lids.

"Wait, what?" Gale fumbled over her words in his mind, in a daze.

Her countenance stayed flawlessly enigmatical. She stared into his eyes, viewing her own reflection in the silvery orbs; then all at once, she sprung from him. The woman darted down the hallway. She ran a hand through her drenched, unkempt hair, shoving and compressing anything she thought she needed into her suitcase for Annie's. Johanna wasn't sure as to whether she'd regret the escape, or what she'd just done with Gale, more in the long run; she was just petrified of screwing up what they'd had, terrified of being used. All she could plead for was consolation, and she knew Annie could do more than provide. Time was essential for sorting out this mess.

Meanwhile, Gale finally comprehended what Johanna was doing, and snapped to his senses. "Johanna, wait, please!"

The call echoed in her ears, a ringing exclamation of what she needed to stay for, though she had already decided she couldn't, not at this minute. She listened to a heavy thud as Gale attempted to sprint after her, clearly not as fortunate on his own shower departure. Johanna whipped on a wool trench coat, weighty enough to warm her, and she could feel the beads of glistening water all over her body soaking into the fabric, plastering it to her.

Frantically, Gale was up and running for her once more, but she had cleared the bottom of the staircase before he was able to reach the banister. Breathless, the hunter couldn't keep up; though she was almost awkwardly bow-legged now, she was swifter than any deer he'd ever tracked, more frenzied than any animal he'd ever witnessed alone. He wrought his mind, trying to understand why she'd do this, attempting to grasp why she'd desert him. What had he done wrong? His pleas were lost to her as she flung open the door; a wave of chillingly fresh air hit him, and as he was only shielded by a towel he gripped around his waist, the frigid current nipped at him from head to toe. Gale transcended the steps anyways, each one dangerously damp, but he had no concern for the peril.

Gale burst from the vacant doorway, scanning the post-winter environment with crazed eyes, hyperventilating the cold air, senses sharp. Every muscle in his being, every atom composing him, was poised to stop her, to save her from whatever was wrong.

But she was nowhere in sight.


	4. Chapter 4: The Descent

**A/N: Hang with me on this chapter, it's kind of slow and depressing, but I feel like it was neccessary. I also introduce a new character who's not actually in the book, just a heads up... this chapter mainly exists for the sake of explaining and consists of Gale moping around xD keep reading, reviews please!**

Ch. 4— The Descent

For the duration of the first week of Johanna's absence, Gale was in denial. He ate less and paced more, his existence clouded over in a fretful fog. It was deemed inconceivable to deter his thoughts from her, no matter how determinedly he tried. Gale wallowed in a pool of scattered concentration, but he could never understand what he'd done to upset her, and he couldn't clear her from his conscience. _She just doesn't love you. _The viral thought overwhelmed him day and night, invasively forcing him into restlessness. Every morning he'd expect to see her leisurely stretched on an armchair, or stalking around the living room, or anything, but she was never there; it was torture.

When she vanished, serene sleep vanished as well. His nightmares resurfaced bit by bit; they had subsided almost entirely when Johanna had been there, as though having her under the same roof had banished them. It was no mysterious secret she had been victim to them as well, as he gathered from her appearance each morning: her face chalky and worrisome until she had as much bitter coffee as needed to satisfy her, the nightmarish glare never retreating from her dark eyes, which were sometimes slightly reddened. Yet even her sleep deprivation had seemed to ebb away, her irregular midnight patterns ceasing to exist. He could detect no shrieks of utmost horror from her room, fewer incidences in which he heard her endless footsteps crossing the halls as she tried to tire herself enough for more sleep. Gale had always wished he could assist more, but he never entered her chamber as she slept, for concern of causing a shift in their friendship. It was a little late for that now.

As he couldn't dispose of her from his thoughts and had no way of interpreting what had overcome her, he remained in a void in-between. Gale busied himself with believing she was off at Annie's, having too marvelous a time to return just yet; he knew it was a lie.

The second week brought a shift in things most unfortunate. All throughout his terrible experiences, Gale had always abstained as much as he could from the awful habits that transformed Haymitch Abernathy into a beast, that used to command Johanna's life, back when she was a loveless wreck before the Quarter Quell. Clearly, he drank some, but he would never surpass a fixed limit of drinks; he wouldn't let himself become that wasted alcoholic. Now, he discovered himself to be drinking more daily, no matter his efforts. And as for hook-ups, which Johanna had been rumored to be involved in in the far off past, he had never done one himself.

One thing absolutely no one would assume if they grew to know him, was that Gale had been a virgin. Everyone who met him expected him to be off with a different girl every night, as his reckless nature could suggest. He was handsome and cunning, and could probably have any girl he wanted if he initiated it. However, in the past, though he'd been involved with other girls, he'd always been waiting for Katniss. Waiting in vain, apparently. However, this new situation with Johanna sent him to an even darker, more reclusive state. She had simply taken his virginity and waltzed out the door, flaunting it. _She just doesn't love you. _He couldn't erase this pestering phrase, which continued to gnaw at him. He gave everything to the woman he loved, again, and she abandoned him; what else did he have to lose? So he did it anyways. He swiftly learned that, while he had the perfect personality for one-night stands, he never had the heart for it.

Gale met her at a bar. Thoroughly buzzed already, he ordered glass after glass of bourbon, trying to hold the nauseating liquid, and experimenting with how much it took to become as hopeless as the District 12 mentor himself; he examined the motley crew surrounding him, and suddenly he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

Her name was Vivetta Larkham, as she introduced herself; a sheepish smile from Gale caused her to flit over immediately and strike up a conversation— a one-sided conversation, at least. He only collected every fifth word she uttered to memory; he was too absorbed with looking her over, trying to determine what it was about her that intrigued him. From the fragments of her story that he mentally sewed together, he learned that she had been a widely renowned Capitol model, and very wealthy; however, when the Capitol fell to the rebels, all of her vast fortune disappeared. The modeling agency had been in possession of her wealth, and it folded the instant the precious city was in danger, leaving Vivetta with next-to-nothing. He battled off a pang of detest in his gut at her sniveling, but continued to glance at her, voluntarily tuning out her pitiful whining.

In an instant, it struck him; she looked like Johanna. The resemblance was far from distinct, but her facial structure matched hers extremely accurately. Johanna was present in Vivetta's defined jaw, in her heightened cheekbones, in the curvature of the brow they both shared. Gale was drawn avidly to this familiarity, a suspicious attraction enthralling him. He searched her with his gaze, yet the exact form of their faces was as far as the similarity carried.

In contrast to Johanna, Vivetta's eyes were a crystalline violet, gracefully narrowed, glittering like amethysts faceted into her face. There was a slight upturn to the curve of her nostrils in her pretty nose, giving one the impression that she was excessively haughty, vain, and arrogant; the assumption wouldn't be entirely false. Her lustrous hair was arranged neatly into plump ringlets, a cheerful cherry-blonde color; however, it was too vibrant a shade to be natural by any means, and since there had been a shortage in dyes since the collapse of the Capitol economy, her dark roots were unveiling themselves. Gale absorbed her flawless, sun-crested skin, yet was quickly overtaken with distaste; it was impossible to discern what of her was and wasn't artificial. It was obvious that her deep lilac eyes were genetically altered, a surgical enhancement. In addition, Gale didn't need to be intelligent enough to construct bombs to notice that at least a few pieces of her anatomy were plastic.

Since Ms. Larkham wasn't exactly the brightest, it wasn't necessary for him to use any hilarious charm, any quick wit. He need only ask the occasional question to imply he harbored any amount of interest, and off she'd go on a different discussion, scooting her barstool nearer to his, simply buying him more time to study her appearance and antics.

"So, why did you come to District 2?" he drawled in a bored manner, stirring the ice cubes in his empty glass with a finger. The charade was turning tiresome.

"Ooh!" she exclaimed in an undeniably Capitol accent. Every once in a while, her voice would become nasal and squeaky, causing him to flinch a little. "Well, isn't that an interesting story!"

Vivetta droned on to tell him of how after she lost her money, she was scoffed at in the Capitol, so she fled to District 2, where she was aware that at least a few non-Capitol citizens were interested in their glamorous customs, where she believed she'd have fans. In fact, Vivetta seemed almost offended with everyone's behavior, clearly expecting her arrival to be celebrated, as naïve and clueless as she seemed to be. Finally, Gale was exhausted from listening to the narcissist, and bluntly tried a pick-up line, which succeeded too well, as she agreed to go to his house. But it wasn't her he was after; as he swatted away the repulsive clouds of Capitol perfume that hung heavily about her and diffused around them on the train ride to Gale's apartment, his eyes traced her jaw line over and over. Johanna's jaw line.

Much later in the night, as he fell asleep next to her, he found himself revolted with himself, and just the opposite of content. Nothing this measly Capitol tramp could do would ever compare to the vigorous passion Johanna possessed. He was so pathetically drunk that he was out like a light, but the nightmares swallowed him hours later. Gale thrashed and convulsed wildly in his sleep, and lurched into consciousness, gasping. He became keenly aware of Vivetta seconds later; his actions had barely disrupted her, and she tossed lightly, only to carry on drooling on his other pillow. Gale's countenance grew grim with displeasure, but he was too exhausted to do a thing about it.

Their morning dispute was very short. The young man groggily tried to cook eggs, burning them with his atrocious skills in the kitchen; his head pounded with what he guessed to be a sketchy hangover. A chiming voice crooned a "good morning" from across the room, which went unanswered, and a pair of slim, tan arms encircled him. As he had no emotions for this woman, let alone patience, he wriggled out of her grip multiple times, rejecting all of her feeble attempts to touch him. He finally snapped something at her, and they were locked in an argument in minutes. As she squealed another saucy response at him, he realized what she was wearing. Clearly she'd been digging through the unattended heap of clean laundry he'd abandoned in the hallway, and was now wearing one of Johanna's oversized jackets, strutting about as if she owned the place.

Sure, he'd started the dispute, but this sneering woman's most recent action took it too far. Suddenly he snapped, screaming at her to get out, and hurled the closest cup on the counter straight at her head. Vivetta ducked, yelping, as it shattered loudly next to her against the wall, the fragmented shards sparkling as they clinked against the floor. The model snatched her hideous fuchsia fur coat from the couch as she stormed away in a huff. She was positively livid as she wrenched the door open, glancing back at him once; her expression was painted with the same fierceness Johanna's used to have. Then, the door slammed shut abruptly.

Though Gale had convinced himself many a time that he was too tired to feel guilt anymore, it consumed him anyways. Though not a likeable character at all, she'd done nothing to him; he was only grumpy with himself, for going through with the venture. The only crime she committed was not being Johanna. He swore, never again.

The next too weeks were much more eventful, yet much less stressful and dramatic. Looking for anything to distract him from her, he absorbed himself in his work rebuilding District 2: tidying up the remains of the Nut, carting them away, constructing building plans, helping in any way he could. This diligence earned him promotion after the next. He became tedious in each detail, barely recognizable as himself anymore; between the nightmares and the employment, he became about as rested as the undead. Somewhere along the path (though if he wrought his memories afterwards, it would be hard to place), he was offered a fancy job, broadcasted on television; apparently, he had become a type of underground celebrity during the days of the Airtime Assault, when he fought in league with the Mockingjay. He accepted the offer, regardless of what he'd probably be interrogated about; his night terrors were almost never about Katniss anymore.

One day, as he sleepily stumbled into his too-empty home, it seemed urgent to him to check the calendar. His focus on work was so oppressing and captivating that he couldn't even recall what day it was. Upon scrutinizing the calendar, he froze. One month. Exceeding a little, in fact. It had been over a month since Johanna left, and for the first time in a long time, he observed what a mess he'd become.

One peek towards the kitchen confirmed this: the neglected sink overflowed with disgusting, crusty dishes, the surrounding counters brushed over with a thick coat of grime. Various articles of his own wrinkled, scraggly clothing, pungent in odor from being crumpled up in corners, were strewn all across the hallways, left to reek. Gale was horrified with what he'd morphed into, and knees knocking together weakly, he leaned on the wall and knotted his fingers into his dark shabby hair, sinking to the floor.

Gale needed Johanna; he wouldn't permit himself to lose her the same way he lost Katniss. But, even in that realization, the way he felt for Johanna was extensively different from how he had felt for Katniss, for anyone. This earth-shattering feeling was unique, purely new. No amount of employment diversions, no abundance of heartless affairs with washed-up Capitol models, could cure it. Even if he was obliterated by her rejection, he found it mandatory to express how he felt about her. Gale Hawthorne wouldn't cower anymore.

He stood up, his whole body thrumming with anxious energy despite its excruciatingly tired state. He planned to catch the next train to District 4.


	5. Chapter 5: The Beach

**A/N: This chapter is sort of the finale before the epilogue, and ends with a snazzy surprise. :0 It also contains descriptions of Johanna's relationship with Annie and how she's been faring, for anyone who loves Annick, or just plain old Annie alone... This chapter is cuter than the others and contains a beach montage as well, in a way. xD I appreciate reviews, and I really have nothing else to say... derp... anyways, enjoy!**

Ch. 5— The Beach

The aroma of salty sea spray was blanketed on everything in Annie Odair's house; this was the first thing Johanna detected about the place, though it wasn't a feature she found hard to endure. Johanna was lying leisurely on Annie's sofa, stroking the fabric absentmindedly, her lips wrapped around a smuggled bottle of white liquor. The couch cushions were a pale minty shade of blue-green, faceted to a frame of white wood, which appeared barely cracked as if it was an antique, and gorgeously engraved. It corresponded with nearly every other piece of furniture Annie owned, setting form for a specific theme; it seemed that no matter where she was, when it came down to interior design, Annie could never get enough beach.

Soon enough, though it was ridiculously late at night, Annie drifted noiselessly into the room, treading with light, even steps, quiet as a faint wind whistling through a grove of trees. She stepped into the beam of unfiltered moonlight pouring through her opened windows, silhouetting her pregnant figure. Her pale skin glowed under the waxing moon, luminescent as a riveting pearl in the dying flesh of a clam. She reached up and twirled a lock of soft ebony hair with a dainty finger, sighing mournfully; her dark sea-green eyes reflected the foaming emerald ocean perfectly as she stared forlornly out of the window, past the horizon. Everyone had expected her to lose it after Finnick's death, to plummet off the deep end; but she was still holding on, her grip firm but forced. Annie would not prove them right by surrendering to the depression, by going completely insane. Disoriented, sure, but she refused to accept that she was "mad"; and given the horrors that would never cease to haunt her, how could anyone be mentally stable if they were in her place? Yet, Annie was ascertained to stay; she needed to, for Finnick, for their unborn son. Johanna randomly grumbled some form of salutations from across the room, and Annie started, clearly having been under the impression her friend was asleep.

"Johanna! What are you doing?" Annie inquired, pondering at first why her friend would be awake at such an hour; she shrugged it off and figured no one who had stepped foot in the arena before could sleep soundly ever again. However, on her approach, she recognized instantly that Johanna was totally hammered.

"Nothing," Johanna slurred in a surly manner, attempting to hide the alcohol behind her, but Annie had already spotted it.

"Give it here," Annie insisted. "You know what I told you about that. It's just going to make it worse." Annie frowned, extending a hand for the bottle.

"But it makes me feel better," she complained, throwing Annie a drunken reproachful glare when she tried to snatch at it.

"Johanna," she started, but there was no bargaining with Johanna Mason when she was drunk. Suppressing a sigh, Annie persisted, trying to wrestle the liquor from her grasp. Obtaining the alcohol wasn't difficult, Johanna being the sprawled out invalid she was. The brunette girl moaned in disagreement, batting her glazed-over chocolate eyes, but didn't hold a hint of a grudge.

"Damn," she chuckled after a while of mutual silence. "You're going to make a great mom."

"Well, you and I are both hoping," she smiled, running a hand across the smooth surface of her plump, swollen belly. A small part of her was terrified, but every other part of her was thrilled to see her baby; it was one of the last material remembrances of Finnick she had, a jubilous combination of each of them. She wanted to explain all of this to Johanna, but she already knew; she knew Annie all too well.

"You have to tell him, Johanna," she blurted out without thinking.

"How I feel? Or… everything?" she trailed off, looking uneasy and frightened; her eyes began to cross at the end of the sentence, and Annie was aware this was talk for sober times.

"Everything," she said carefully. "Get some sleep; you'll need it."

Johanna had intended to alight to District 4 to comfort Annie, to make sure her sanity held firm; she feared that her close friend could break at any minute, to the loneliness or emptiness or nerve-wracking instability she'd always had. Everyone was concerned the depression would be too much. Nevertheless, it was Annie who was now consoling Johanna, and it was clear whom the more stable of the two was. Although she felt shameful about the situation, Johanna knew at least the visit was a nice distraction for her, primarily.

"Okay," Johanna yawned, then hiccupped, not bothering to protest, even though she knew what sleep would bring on. "You're my best friend, Annie."

Annie could sense it wasn't the white liquor talking. "You are too, Johanna," she admitted, recognizing the truth of it.

She was cut off by a muffled snore as Johanna drifted into slumber. Slowly standing, Annie clutched a hand to her round stomach, and left as silently as she had entered, just like a ghost.

Annie Odair poured the batter into the frying pan, hearing the crisp sizzle the moment it touched metal; she was preparing a batch of seaweed pancakes for both of them to share. Annie couldn't seem to remember whether or not Johanna enjoyed the sweet and salty breakfast pastry, but she was aware that Johanna would try to eat them regardless, for Annie's sake.

Plodding down the flight of stairs and rubbing her eyes, Johanna entered as soon as the pancakes were finished frying, as if on cue. She threw Annie a gracious smile as she came closer; though Johanna didn't appear to be in the best shape, and looked as though she might be sick, she seemed entirely sober, and in much better shape than her state last night. Her nose scrunched up, and she inhaled sharply.

"Are those…" she trailed off, covering up her distaste. Well, at least now Annie remembered that Johanna disliked them.

"Yeah, seaweed pancakes," she giggled. "Sorry."

"I'm not complaining," she responded, though her facial expression said she was very hesitant to eat them. "It beats oyster omelets."

Annie's mouth lifted up at the corners. "You don't have to eat them, you know."

Johanna shook her head and shoved a forkful into her mouth importunately, gagging a little bit. Annie couldn't help her laughter.

"If you don't mind my asking," she interjected after a pause of chewing. "Why are you growing out your hair? I mean, I like it and all, but I'm so used to the short hair."

Johanna ran her hand through her feathery brown hair, yanking through a small tangle in a layered area. "I'm not sure… don't get me wrong, I really do prefer short hair… but I realized that I want it as far from shaved as possible, you know, after the—"

"I understand," Annie interrupted solemnly, her mouth twisted apologetically. "I'm so sorry Johanna…" she placed a hand onto her leg.

"It's fine," she lied, and then added, "It's not your fault, anyways."

"I know, but—" Annie was cut off by a powerful knocking on her door.

The pair of woman fell silent, curious as to who would visit Annie, of all people, this early. However, this thinking spell was short-lived.

"Annie, it's Gale," a deep voice announced, muffled by the door. Johanna stiffened upon hearing his voice, unaware of how to respond.

"Annie, can I please come in? I really need your help," Gale called out again in his distorted tone.

Annie began pacing quietly towards the door, but Johanna clasped her arm tightly. "Oh God, Annie, tell him I'm not here!" she hissed frantically.

Her dear friend contemplated the command and was about to nod, but was intercepted by Gale's voice once again.

"Johanna, I can hear you in there," it rang out, far from amused.

"Shit!" she muttered, lunging onto her feet and scrambling for the nearest exit.

Annie stood frozen, stupefied. She knew Johanna didn't want to see him, but would she not be doing her friend a favor in the long run by letting him in? Seconds later, the decision was made for her; upon hearing Johanna take off, Gale became frenzied, and kicked the door open. The girl with the green eyes jumped away as the damaged door, faded in color with chipping sky blue paint, slammed cacophonously and then swung back on its hinges, releasing a spray of splinters on the intense impact. Gale bounded through the doorway, giving Annie a speedy apology and assurances that he would pay for it, and sprinted after Johanna wildly. She wouldn't slip from his fingers again.

"Johanna!" he shouted over and over, his voice growing raspy, as he vaulted over the railing of Annie's balcony, which was directly on the coast, facing the ocean. The panicking woman ran on, but realized shortly she was trapped; Gale was straight behind her, and only the ocean lay ahead, threatening to swallow her. She used to be mediocre at swimming, but she knew she couldn't stand that much water now, and it was all pointless. Johanna skidded to a halt, her bare feet kicking up wispy clouds of sand. The sand crunched underneath her clenched toes as she stood there, trying to determine if Gale deserved a fair chance. Her gaze scrutinized the post-sunrise horizon; all of the magentas and scarlets were washed from the canvas of the sky. It was flawlessly blue, nearly surreal, except for where the color hinted to teal and clashed with a pale canary shade, right where the sun had peaked. She figured there was no running now.

Johanna flopped down onto the sand in a curled over position, her chin placed above her knees; she clutched her legs with one arm and toyed around in the sand with another, listening intently for Gale to catch up with her. She permitted a stream of remarkably fine sand to pour through her fingers, just like dry, grainy water. Suddenly, she heard Gale drop to his knees behind her.

"Please, just listen," he breathed, the back of his throat burning. "You don't have to say anything, just listen."

The glare he received was blood-simmering, but she gave him an accepting nod.

"I don't know what I did wrong or what happened, and you don't have to believe me, but I need you to come back," Gale pleaded, panting as he rose to his feet. "I'm such a mess and I barely make it through each day; I've tried everything, anything, but nothing _ever _works and I _know_ you're the only one that can fix it. I'm just… I can't… living without you isn't living. I don't know when it got to this point, but I need you, Jo. You must think I'm just a kid, but I know how I feel about you. I won't let you hate me."

Johanna turned to say something, but found herself terribly speechless upon her first glance. Gale's expression was beyond heartbreaking, and held steady in his gaze, his black hair whipping in the gust that billowed across the shore. But before she even had the narrow opportunity to speak up, he started again, even louder.

"I know you've been hurt and I shouldn't expect you to trust me, but if I don't say it now, I don't know when I would. It's been eating at me, and I'm sure you think I'm just too young to know better, but I'm certain of it," he ranted. "I love you, Johanna. You're different than anyone I've ever met before. Sure, you're very headstrong and vicious, and maybe a little insane, and you can be a hell of a handful when you want to be. But I love it. I've never felt this way so strongly about anyone before; it came out of the blue, but now it torments me night and day. You don't have to believe me, you don't even have to say it back; just please come home Johanna! I can't do any of this without you. I'm _so _confused, and now you're the only thing I'm certain of."

Though Johanna could tell that all he displayed was thoroughly truthful, her amiable qualities were lessened by the harsh defenses she'd prepared for the situation. Although she knew the action would only irk him, she couldn't resist, and said what she felt anyways.

"You don't know what you're saying," she hissed, turning to her last resort to prevent confessing. Her gaze hardened, slicing into Gale's steel eyes. "You love Katniss."

"Katniss? Is this what all of this is about?" he exclaimed, appalled. "I don't love her anymore; I love you. Obviously, I screwed up with Katniss; I'm not going to allow myself to make the same mistake with you. I'm not going to mess this up. Sure, I loved Katniss. A lot. She'll always have a tiny place in my heart, she was my best friend since we were little— but I doubt the small space I reserve for her is any different than the one you have for him, whoever it was you loved before Snow killed him."

Johanna started to protest, retorting that it was different because he was dead, but Gale offered no room for meager interruption or bickering.

"And you should know better, Johanna; the way I love you is different than how I've ever felt for anyone else, even Katniss. I'm over her now, that's how the brain works— we suffer, we recover, we get over it in time. And I have. I'm not going to waste my time nursing some wound left by her. I want you. Only you."

Yet his look didn't suggest merely that he only wanted her, or even that he only needed her; it suggested she was all he had left, too. And in that instant, she was positive that her fears were obliterated. He didn't even need to say it; she knew Gale wasn't going anywhere. That they could be safe together, that they could be in love. Johanna stared into his eyes for an eternity, trying to find some impurity, but it was a useless search. After minutes of straight staring, Gale spoke up.

"Johanna… Johanna, say something," he stuttered; it was clear he had given everything, and was now becoming defensive at her lack of response.

But she didn't say anything; nothing the could utter in that moment could express every single thought engulfing her, the wordless emotion she felt for him that needed badly to be released. Though it was the most expected thing she could've done, and she was silently cursing at herself inside, she couldn't stop herself once she was determined. Johanna lurched to her feet, and what started as a wide stride transformed into a swift run in seconds. Gale began to tread backwards slowly, scared of her behavior; but the instant their bodies collided, he was reassured. Johanna took his face between her rough, sandy palms and kissed him.

The kiss was unrelenting and merciless, and hard enough to bruise his lips; it somehow expressed everything she needed to say. However, it was unlike the first kisses she'd shared with Gale; the blistering fervor remained, but there was no rush, no urgency. Instead, all else abolished, there was only bliss. Contentment. A satisfactory serenity that obscured them from any hurry, that suggested the pair could remain in such passion forever. And suddenly, though they had spent their whole lives convinced that any day could bring the end, they realized they had all the time in the world. They pulled away, minds reeling, exhilarated.

It came to Johanna's attention that no matter how much Gale could assume from the kiss, she needed to tell him; there was an abundance of things to say. But as soon as she tried to voice it, a stifled sob strangled her, and she found herself on the verge of tears. _Oh, hell no,_ she thought, _I won't be one of those soppy cliché' girls that weeps over anything romantic. _However, Johanna knew annunciating a single word would allow the tears to flood over; Gale seemed to understand, as he was shushing her and reassuring her that she wasn't required to say a thing. However, there was one thing she needed to say.

"I love you too, Gale," she whispered; he pressed her closer against his warm body and she nuzzled his chest lightly.

He lovingly leaned over and pecked her forehead, ruffling her soft brown hair. And from that moment on, the remainder of the day was beyond a description of paradise. After a lighter-spirited conversation of sorts, the couple dashed off into the waves, frolicking like children. They took turns splashing each other, kicking up foaming sheets of spray; the beads of water were diamonds in the sunlight. Of course, for fear of triggering memories, Gale allowed Johanna to win the sea war. She seemed, however, unphased by it all, too joyous to care, despite the occasional tremor. Nevertheless, though she wouldn't venture farther than waist deep into the water, he was convinced he was healing her, that she would be better.

Their time spent in the ocean didn't continue long after that, as their drenched clothing was heavily dragging them down. The pair peeled off their sopping clothes, with the exception of underwear, and laid them on the shore nearby. On a spontaneous impulse, the two built a lopsided, miniature sand-model of the Capitol, which Johanna enjoyed trampling afterwards, much to Gale's amusement. While stomping on it, she accidentally got some of the dusty sand on Gale, and a playful game of catch-me-if-you-can shortly ensued. Gale chased Johanna ecstatically, capturing her in no time, bundling her up in his arms and planting kisses all over her neck as she laughed. She had no plans of freeing herself.

It was only springtime, but in the boiling climate of District 4, the majority of the day seemed to fade into a summery haze. Saltwater kisses. Johanna's loud, hearty laugh. A barely-there tropical breeze. Gale's pearly smile, flashing bright white. Scalding sunshine. Bare legs covered in wet sand. Some things were so distinct, others so discrete.

They only entered the house on a single occasion while the sun was up, for an extremely late lunch; it was well needed too, as both of them were ravished and exhausted. Annie had been silently observing, and without disturbing them, prepared a small lunch of miniscule sandwiches, some stuffed with thin slices of turkey and others with tuna salad, along with tall glasses of refreshing lemonade. She abandoned their plates on the table and left the room, grinning to herself. There was a lonely aching in her gut, the one that consumed her whenever she saw happy couples, or anything that reminded her of Finnick; yet, for once it was overpowered. She was thrilled for her best friend anyways, even if she didn't have a particular fondness for Gale, and simply wanted to let it be.

Upon seeing the sandwiches, Johanna and Gale scarfed them down immediately. The pair was more than grateful; Annie had even left out a bottle of sunscreen for Johanna. This befuddled her at first, until she realized crimson rouge was already hinting at her cheeks and shoulders from her fairer complexion. Gale applied some as well after Johanna did, but his olive skin never required it. After lunch, they both ambled out across the beach and laid in the sand together; their intention was to let the food settle, but they never really rose from their cuddling position. They just talked. The conversation and japes continued until the sun drifted beneath the sky, the golden orb igniting the horizon with an enrapturing array of hues. Finally, after witnessing the glorious sight, the lovers retreated for dinner with Annie.

The pregnant woman was humming to herself, pouring icy water into cups; she seemed different, somehow more content. It was as though a calmness radiated about her. Everyone greeted each other warmly, hovering around the wooden dining table that was piled with mouthwatering fried fish. Johanna sauntered over to the counter, beaming, and obtained a full bottle of cheap red wine; however, Annie's hand wrapped around hers before she could pop the cork.

"Don't you dare," she laughed, but there was a stricken and somber undertone present. "You need to tell him, Johanna… soon."

Suddenly, her countenance grew alabaster, and her grip on the bottle became limp. She managed a nod, but couldn't fight off the worry. The carefree Johanna from the beach was diminishing; Gale noticed her unorthodox behavior at once, and it was constant for the remainder of the evening. Annie's words knocked around in Johanna's mind without ceasing.

And they kept it up incessantly as she lay on the mattress of Annie's guest bed, her form cloaked in rippling white sheets, staring out of the window; the stars glinted ominously, a handful of glitter thrown onto the black velvet sky. She felt his arms encase her before she saw them, felt his tempting breath on the back of her neck before she heard him make a sound; however, she remained stone-still, resisting.

He began to run his lips across her shoulder blades gently, enticing her; though it killed her, she stopped him. "Gale… Gale I need to tell you something."

She rolled over to face him, her face the paragon of paradox. His entertained smirk disappeared as he studied her expression, his dark eyebrows scrunching together at how serious she was suddenly. "What is it, Jo?"

Johanna Mason bit her lip as her eyelashes fluttered, glancing away; after a minute or two, she chuckled, a type of sadistic laugh.

"You aren't so keen on using protection back in District 12, are you?"

Gale raised a concerned eyebrow, the gears in his head turning all too slowly. "I guess not… Everyone says it's hard to afford, and no one really bothered with it, since our population was always rock bottom… People dropping dead in the streets from starvation and all… Why do you ask?" he brooded.

"Well, congratulations, gorgeous," she laughed sardonically. However, all of the certainty and stability in her eyes was extinguished. With a shaky voice and a sad smile, she finished, "You knocked me up."


	6. Chapter 6: Epilogue

**A/N: It's finally finished, here's the epilogue! :) This was one of my favorite things to write of the story; they encounter Peeta and Katniss in a reunion, and, well, you'll find out. :D Thankyou to anyone who reads this... I'm considering writing more Hunger Games fanfics, with multiple different pairings I enjoy (Gale/Johanna, Cato/Clove, Gale/Peeta, Johanna/Katniss, etc.) not all of which would be particularly romantic or angsty... If anyone is interested in these ideas please say so in a review :) Regardless, more fanfiction will be coming soon... Thankyou!**

Ch. 6— Epilogue

The young girl squealed with delight, bouncing on her mother's bony knee. Her mother absentmindedly braided and unbraided strands of her child's brown hair, thoroughly distracted, pausing only to stroke her comely, fair-skinned face. A mere six years of life were too kind to her; she was naïve, innocent, and uncorrupted, free of the struggles and troubles that plagued both of her parents' childhoods. Her silver eyes glittered jubilantly as she scooted closer to her mother. Her parent's lap was already cramped, the space filled by her pregnant stomach.

"Stop it, Phoenix," her mother snapped as the little girl started twirling her mom's golden wedding ring; she yanked her hand out of reach, startling the little girl.

She instantaneously weakened on meeting her daughter's shocked gaze, and found herself staring into the eyes of Phoenix's father. The woman was taken by remorse, apologetically embracing her daughter and kissing her on her forehead. Phoenix returned a meek smile. However, as soon as the woman began tickling her, the girl erupted in bubbly giggles.

"Go play with your daddy, Phoenix… he looks like he could use some cheering up," Johanna whispered to her daughter. Phoenix animatedly leapt from her lap, her slight frame gracefully navigating the floor of the hovercraft, and pounced into Gale's instead.

Phoenix Helena Hawthorne. Gale had absolutely detested the name when Johanna had first suggested it. His daughter would be a powerful bird; as it just so happens, a bird on fire. It took a while, however, for the meaning to sink in; Johanna's purpose was irrelevant to Katniss or the rebels. The phoenix was a majestic avian that rose from the ashes of its damaged past; it didn't only make a name for itself above the other birds, it was reborn anew. It was eternal. And in a way, it could describe them. Gale was fine from that moment on; he had no issues with "Helena", which he knew had been one of Johanna's good friends before her untimely death at the hands of Snow.

As Phoenix hadn't been intentional, as crude as it sounds, it took six years for Gale to convince Johanna into conceiving more children. He had always desired a huge family, and contrastingly, she had never wanted children at all. Though it could be said Johanna wasn't the greatest mother, she had an irresistible soft spot for kids, and did as best she could with Gale's assistance. After a tirade of pleading from Gale, Johanna finally caved to agreement, and she was pregnant with aforementioned baby now. She had discovered just recently that it was another girl, and though anxious, was just as excited as her husband.

Gale Hawthorne lifted up his daughter just as the hovercraft jolted slightly in an air current rift; a grin stretched across his features as she laughed charmingly. The family was on their way to Annie's abode in District 4 once more. However, this situation was different: Annie Odair had decided to throw a reunion.

Most of the people invited had kept in touch and visited each other often, so a reunion wasn't really in order; for those who hadn't, it had been over seven years. Annie invited anyone she'd ever encountered, and even some she hadn't; the reason Gale wasn't so eager on it was clear. Katniss would be there. He couldn't refuse Annie, but he had hoped never to come face-to-face with the Mockingjay ever again. He had abstained from anything related to District 12 at all for as long as he could recall.

Unknown to him, Johanna had done the opposite. In fact, every half-year she would schedule catch-up telephone calls with Peeta; they had been close, but in an odd way. While being tortured in the Capitol together, they had each been the only reserve of friendship the other had been offered, especially after becoming so acquainted with each other's screams. Though both of them informed each other of the events occurring in their lives, neither told their significant other the entire truth. Peeta Mellark would say Johanna had called, mentioning nothing about Gale, and Katniss never minded, as she had been her ally in the second Quarter Quell and her friend in District 13. Gale, on the other hand, knew nothing of these phone calls, and Peeta and Johanna both reckoned it was for the better if Katniss and Gale knew as little about each other as possible until they confronted one another on their own means.

To Johanna's pleasant surprise, her husband could stand viewing Katniss Mellark on television without becoming irritated anymore; as they were all victors or celebrities of some sort or another, they had all been broadcasted individually on television at least once or twice, if not regularly. In actuality, this eased Johanna, though she wasn't under stress. Though dysfunctional at times, after the situation was done with and everything confessed, their relationship was close to ideal. Of course, no marriage is flawless, and they would have the occasional spat, as headstrong, ill-tempered, and highly-opinionated they both were; but it would taper off as soon as it had flared up. Gale and Johanna Hawthorne really did love each other, and built their relationship and romance and support, not on necessity or lust. They were each haunted by rare nightmares, but it wasn't comparable to what they suffered before; to top it off, Johanna's fear had nearly subsided as well. She had hoped Gale's mixed concerns for Katniss had as well, but he became cagey as soon as she implied they were all meeting in Four.

An abrupt thud hollowly echoed around the cabin of the aircraft upon landing, but it was free of lurching motion. Johanna unbuckled herself and strolled over to Gale's seat; she squeezed his hand, an attempt to relax his nerves, and pecked him quickly on the mouth. In response Gale wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her down closer while biting her lips, astonishing her with his sudden passion. They drew back, Johanna murmuring reassurances between kisses as she pulled away. The wide metallic doors swooped open.

Johanna Hawthorne meandered across the unstable sand dunes, clutching Phoenix's hand with whitened knuckles, the tall wavering beach grasses licking at their legs. Gale followed closely, laden down with all of the baggage, but not complaining; they had taken luggage along, as Annie had permitted the family to spend the night. The celebration was on the stretch of shore behind Annie's house, so Johanna crossed over to the beach without an inclination to enter the house first. Conveniently, Annie was the first person Johanna laid eyes on upon entering, and she sprinted off to embrace her best friend, dragging an entertained Phoenix along by the hand.

Annie and Johanna laughed more cacophonously than they had in a while, wrapped in each other's arms; Johanna congratulated her on the turnout of the reunion, observing the large quantity of guests. They retracted so that Annie could shake Gale's hand, which was struggling enough already with the task of steadying slipping bags.

"Oh, just put those in the living room," Annie giggled warmly, noticing his dilemma.

A transformation had consumed Annie Odair; though she missed Finnick with enough grief to shred her soul, she could finally be at peace. Finnick had spent his entire life battling, and now he was free; she had no cause for macabre worry. Though it had taken years to come to this revelation, the newfound contentment cloaked her. A serene glow radiated from her at all times, especially when accompanied by her seven-year-old son, Finn Xander. At times, she couldn't help but feel abandoned, though she was positive it wasn't so. He was free now, and mentally, so was she.

Gale trekked up the porch and into the home, navigating through crowds of social chaos; only a handful of people were chatting in the living room, gathered around a disheveled table of refreshments. The man dropped the bags in a corner, sucking in a sharp breath from exertion. Gale decidedly walked across the room to obtain a drink, knowing he couldn't face the situation without a weak buzz. However, on approaching the table, he instantly wished he hadn't.

Gale nearly bolted for the door the second he saw that long, thick, ebony braid swishing back and forth, like a fluid pendulum. It was her. In the seven years of his absence, she had grown out her dark rich hair once more, which had been previously singed off, and styled it in her signature braid. He ascertained that it could be no one else; even the silhouette of her high olive cheekbones on her gaunt yet lovely face defined her. Barely visible, a waxy net of scars from her burn repair surgery climbed up the back of her bare neck; they had to be burns, by the way each pale tendril puckered and curled. As if she could sense his dreading gaze on her as he backed away in a panic, she turned and locked eyes with him.

Petrified, Gale never budged a muscle; the door was merely feet away, vacant and intriguing. Yet he knew he couldn't flee; he owed it to his wife to stay, and he couldn't disappoint her. Unfortunately, he had no idea what to expect. A battle of wits was in order, and both of them were bewildered; their gray eyes mirrored one another's precisely, glimmering with adrenaline.

For an instant, it was there. The gut-wrenching, blood-boiling rage they felt at each other's betrayal and abandonment. The sore memories of a raw romance briefly shared. The despicable envy they felt for each other's happiness. Heartbreak and horrors, detest and despair. A foul, repulsive mixture of emotions bubbled and swelled within them, intoxicating their reason. Neither of them could decide what they were more inclined to do: attack in a furious rage, topple into depression, or cave to the desire that used to consume them. The passion. The hatred. The misery. It gnawed at their innards, an inferno consuming them. And then, it was gone.

Though they could've been capable of anything in that single moment, it all flooded away, the enticing and taunting fire drowned out by relief. The jealousy, desire, and anger fizzled out; though they couldn't help slight envy, and the scars gashed into each other's consciousness would never fully heal, the intensity diminished. Memories of their childhood, their lasting friendship, and all they had supported each other through resurfaced instead. For the first time in years, they were genuinely relieved that the other was alive and well, safe and happy. The static emotion in the room had paralyzed them, but now it was though Katniss and Gale were back in District 12: hunting together, isolated by woods, and entirely easy-going.

"So, I guess you've been faring well," Gale smiled crookedly, embracing the nostalgia. "Well, you look it, anyhow."

"I've been better, and I've been worse," she snorted, a type of nervous laughter escaping her. "I doubt I'm faring any better than you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he teased, chuckling slightly. Both of them were weak with the impact still, yet comfortable enough to jape at one another good-heartedly. They could tell they were both exceptionally better since their last encounter, and nearly all patched-up mentally.

"So," Katniss blurted out, seeking something to discuss; she didn't realize how awkward the topic was until it was iterated. "I'm guessing there's a Mrs. Hawthorne now?" she asked, nodding towards his wedding band. Who would've thought when she assumed Gale had been in District 2 with a fancy job, kissing another pair of lips, she would be so correct?

"Oh, yeah," Gale stuttered, examining his own ring; the jewelry was shiny, glistening gold, engraved with gorgeous patterns of leaf-covered branches intricately, so light it was easy to miss. "Yeah, there is," he smiled warmly, glancing away.

Katniss's expression was stolid and indiscernible for a moment, but it brushed away, and she looked sincerely congratulatory. "I'm happy for you."

"Thank you," he grinned. "I have a daughter too, actually… and another on the way… it's almost unreal," he stated in a sense of dazed wonder, swelling with pride. As Katniss and Gale were only in their mid-twenties, they seemed too young for the lives they were thrust into; yet the terrors they had witnessed earlier had aged them greatly.

"Oh," Katniss seemed startled at the unexpected news, not interpreting that he would have children already. Nevertheless, she gave her head a quick shake to clear the surprise. "Well, you always did want a big family… I'll look forward to meeting them."

"Something tells me you already know my wife," he laughed in an omniscient way, confusing Katniss even further. "And something tells me I know the mister, too," he added, nudging her hand with the wedding ring on it.

She had been prepared for him to be outraged over the ordeal, so the nonchalant and collected manner with which he said it set her back again.

"Yeah, I'd say you do," she laughed cautiously.

"So, how's it been in District 12?" he inquired, taking a swig of the Capitol-grade champagne Annie had poured into the part glasses to calm himself.

"It's a lot better, almost entirely repaired," she smiled, lifting a dark eyebrow. "You should consider coming back."

He shrugged, not putting much thought into the offer; he had honestly, however, been curious of the condition his home district was in.

"I'm serious," she uttered. "I miss you, Gale."

Gale choked a little on his drink, but swallowed the bitter fluid as if he was unchafed; he couldn't stop himself from saying it regardless. "I miss you too, Catnip."

Before either could process anything, they were barreling towards each other, and met in an inseparable embrace. She gripped Gale tightly and breathlessly, never permitting her best friend to leave again, and pressed a cheek against his chest, which had always been a comforting haven in her times of desperation. Of course, the hug wasn't proposed to be romantic, and nothing they had spoken of pertained to love. They were only riveted by the fortitude they had always coddled in their hearts, and they realized everything could be reversed and reborn, as if not a second had passed since that moment in the woods.

They withdrew simultaneously, serenity plastered to their faces. After a short but vague session of catching up, which mainly revolved around District 12's disposition as Katniss still persuaded him to return, the Mockingjay invited him to return to the outdoor party with her.

"No, I'm going to have another drink, but I'll catch up," he called out as she walked away. Finally, the suspense had ceased and their friendship could be rekindled; he once thought it hopeless, and now he was free.

Katniss Mellark crept through the crowd stealthily in the same mindless daze Gale was in, scanning the vast range of company. Her heartbeat was syncopated, fluttering rapidly in her ribcage; though overjoyed, she needed Peeta to steady her. She scrutinized the throngs of people eagerly. The attendance was mainly composed of folks from District 13, Annie's dear friends from District 4, and even a handful of Capitol citizens; though their era had collapsed, they still wore the gaudy, opulent Capitol apparel, struggling to keep their ludicrous sense of style alive. All of the remaining victors attended as well, even the ever-insidious Enobaria. The District 2 victor was smirking at some woman who wore a dour countenance and gave Enobaria catty glares occasionally. Katniss spontaneously recognized this woman to be Johanna Mason, and it came to her attention she was in a conversation with Peeta; Katniss surged through the crowd towards them quickly.

Johanna and Peeta were guffawing at some humorous exchange they had just shared; she socked Peeta playfully on the shoulder, causing him to stagger a bit. Johanna had grown out her lustrous chestnut hair almost until it reached her bellybutton, but in a random fit of annoyance with all the attention long hair required, sheared all of it off; she now presented it in a messy, boyish pixie cut, the choppy bangs nearly shielding her dark, interceptive eyes. She was balancing her weight on one leg, a youthful girl of about six years propped on her hip. It was obvious Johanna was experiencing issues with holding her. Her bulbous stomach curved outwards gently, and Katniss instantaneously realized she was pregnant.

"Whoa… you're the last person I expected to settle down," Katniss remarked, entering their discussion. The statement was honest; Katniss was a little startled, but nothing could shock her after seeing Gale.

"Thanks?" she snorted with amusement, reaching out to hug Katniss. The embrace was uncomfortable, as her orb-like stomach protruded between them, but was graciously returned. "Nice to see you too, Kitty Kat."

Katniss beamed. "So who's this?"

"Her name's Phoenix. Phoenix Helena," Johanna smiled softly, a vulnerable kindness Katniss had never before witnessed appearing. "She likes to be held, but she's getting big though… and kind of heavy," she admitted, her eyebrows knitting together. "Do you want to go play with Finn soon, hun?" she addressed her daughter.

"Could I hold her?" Katniss interjected, staring at the little girl whose head was turned aside.

"Of course," Johanna chuckled. "But she doesn't understand she's getting a little old for this."

Katniss cradled Johanna's daughter in her arm, peering curiously at the pleasantly tempered child. With careful fingers, she delicately brushed the dark, smooth ringlets of hair from her porcelain face. "She's beautiful," Katniss began. "She looks just like—"

Suddenly Katniss cut off in the middle of the sentence, her mouth slightly agape. It hit her like a ton of bricks, and she was lightheaded enough to keel over. _Just like Gale, _she finished in her mind. Among the features of a face similar to both his and Johanna's, she was staring deeply into Gale's eyes.

Slightly narrowed, fierce yet understanding, and stone grey. Their viciousness was lessened by Phoenix's innocent look, but Katniss could place these eyes anywhere. _Something tells me you already know my wife. _Gale's words drifted back from the recesses of her subconscious, along with a couple more. _I have a daughter too, actually… and another on the way. _Katniss sewed the context clues together in her head, trapped in irreversible disbelief. It had to be a coincidence, right?

Yet she was definite that it couldn't be. Suddenly, she recalled where she had seen the pattern etched on Gale's wedding ring before; it was a traditional District 7 wedding band. Her throat constricted as a lump formed within it, and she was incompetent of grasping reality.

"Oh my god," she blinked furiously multiple times. "Oh, my _god…_"

"Shit," Johanna spat out incredulously, unsure what to do about Katniss's actions. She glanced at Peeta for support, but he just shook his head, in the same stupor Johanna was. Katniss's mind whirled, battling to find purchase as she lowered the little girl closer to the ground and put on a semblance to conceal her astonishment. She couldn't believe it. Gale had married and knocked up Johanna Mason.

It was too coincidental but far from convenient that Gale Hawthorne materialized from the busily chatting masses of people then, slinging an arm around Johanna and planting a kiss on her head. However, he was immediately concerned with the situation, wanting an explanation as to why Katniss was ogling his daughter in awe and sputtering senselessly.

"Your hair is really pretty," a soft voice stuttered, restoring Katniss's sanity. Phoenix provided her with a tender look of sweetness, though she was actually sort of scared at her reaction.

"Th-thankyou," she stammered, her voice fainter than the rustling of curtains in the wind. She gathered her senses and composed herself.

Johanna knelt beside her daughter. "Go and find Finn, Phoenix," she ushered with a calm gesture; the girl darted into the crowd before anyone could lift a finger.

Until Phoenix had left, Katniss had been careful not to hint the slightest intimation something was amiss; unfortunately, as soon as she vanished, Katniss snapped.

"What the hell? You… and you… and that?" she gawked but never raised her voice; on the syllable "that" she splayed a hand towards Johanna's baby belly. "And _you_," she declared, twirling on her heels and jabbing a finger in her husband's direction. "Why aren't you surprised? Did you know about this?"

"Well," Peeta swallowed audibly, aware Katniss's anger stemmed from being left out of the loop. "Yeah, kind of… I'm sorry…"

His wife seemed to be pondering everything, so Peeta couldn't resist adding, "Honestly, most people kind of saw it coming, anyways."

After a brief consideration, the group gave a collective shrug, accepting it; even Katniss nodded in recognition.

"I suppose you're right… I just didn't expect marriage, of all things…" she trailed off, perplexed, but randomly interjected, "Oh! Don't take this the wrong way, I'm happy for you. It's just… wow…"

Everyone cackled at her fading reaction, and even the Mockingjay herself saw it fit to give a weakened smile. After the situation subsided quietly and everyone was on fine terms (and perhaps even terms of acceptance for Katniss), they all slipped into comfortable conversation, though they tended to keep to themselves and abstain from congregations of strangers. Unfortunately, Peeta found it mandatory to test the waters, hoping Gale's passive courtesy wasn't only an act.

"So, how was it that you convince the immovable 'Johanna Mason' into having children in who knows how long, and I still can't persuade Katniss?" he japed nervously, stretching his skills as a people person.

Luckily, Gale didn't appear offended; he and Johanna both seemed tentative to answer, however. "Well, we didn't… uh, you see… we sort of…" Gale began, exhaling heavily.

"Oh," Peeta's eyes widened. Johanna had informed him of Phoenix's conception, but not that it was unintentional. Katniss looked away, blowing air through her lips.

"Um… she's our favorite accident!" Johanna beamed wryly.

"Oh, god," Peeta sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Katniss, on the other hand, giggled at Johanna's crafty comment.

Johanna recovered speedily, affirming the couple was infatuated with her, and adored their child with all they could muster. She provided a short summary of the happening, thankfully without including much detail. It generally went the way most stories of that type do, something along the lines of "We were young and in love, and we were stupid. And suddenly, we weren't so stupid anymore", though not verbatim.

"Oh, and this one is on purpose," she finished. Gale snickered and pressed his palm to Johanna's stomach eagerly, as though it were fragile.

"A girl, right?" Peeta inquired, the question based off of what Johanna had told him previously.

"Yes," Johanna chirped ecstatically. "We're going to name her Aspen Juneau."

Katniss complemented the name, and Johanna thanked her; however, she jokingly replied she couldn't take the compliment too seriously, considering what a basic and classically District 7 name Aspen was. She did mention, alas, that Gale had developed the name Juneau out of the blue.

"I still think it's a beautiful name," Peeta inserted. "You should help me come up with names for our kids, later on."

"I think you mean the kids we're definitely _not _having," Katniss stated, her facial expression sardonic yet comical.

"Oh, give it eight more years or so," Peeta shrugged, mouthing 'it's so happening' when Katniss turned away. He wiggled his blond eyebrows suggestively, causing Johanna to cackle; Katniss rolled her eyes as she revolved back to face him, a smile hinting at the corners of her mouth.

"Oh, whatever you say," she laughed sarcastically.

The group's topics drifted off after that, and they continued to catch up until after the sun had a departed; the sinking luminescent disc left the entire beach in the midst of nighttime. The four of them hardly interacted with the other guests.

Katniss had been suspicious of their relationship initially; it had caught her off guard, as she had generally expected them to hook up promiscuously if they ended up together. Nevertheless, it was simple for her to see that the two had never been more cheerful than when they were together, and it was meant to happen.

The Mockingjay scanned the beach, which was dimly lit by a dozen or so hanging lanterns, courtesy of Annie; a few clusters of guests were already exiting the festivities, though it had just struck nightfall. However, in the faint halo of light radiating from a lantern above them, she saw a peculiar sight. It was Johanna and Gale's daughter, Phoenix, captured in a playful tussle with Annie's son, Finn.

Finn looked exactly like his father, in a majority of features; his eyes were deep teal-green abysses, as enchanting as Finnick Odair's had been, and the man was still present in his seven-year-old son's strong build, toned jaw, and mesmerizingly quirky smile. However, his face was softened like his dear mother's, and he possessed her thick midnight-brown hair. The boy was quite a showstopper, and the center of Annie's world as it was.

Phoenix Hawthorne laughed, dirtying her brand new white frock, which was dotted with a pattern of miniscule blue flowers, in the sand; wet sand was smeared in handprints all across the flowy fabric, yet it could only pay compliment to the girl's carefree nature. Both children's knees were grazed raw by the gritty sand, their cheeks stained a rosy pink from laughter. They were a picture of innocence. And in that moment, it struck Katniss that having a few kids wouldn't kill her.

The first sight Johanna envisioned on entering the guest bedroom was her husband, framed acutely by the doorway he faced; Gale sat on the bed, his brow crinkled in concentration, dwindling his thumbs. Johanna sensed something must be disturbing him, and perched beside him upon the mattress; he flinched, returning to his senses the instant she stroked his shoulder protectively.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned, adding, "I think you did really well today… everything seemed fine… better than fine, actually…"

"Yeah, no, all of that was great… surprisingly so," Gale responded. "I should be relieved, and this should make me happy, it's just… she asked me to move back to District 12."

"Oh…" Johanna replied; she couldn't decipher how to react to the news, but she was considerably more relaxed, now that she knew there were no troubles with the Kitty Kat. At least, to her knowledge. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her I'd consider it," he sighed defeatedly, pressing two fingers to his temple. "I spent so long swearing I'd never go back, but I really miss is sometimes, not to mention my mom and little siblings live there, so I could visit more often… I just need to see what it's become…"

Johanna leaned her head upon his shoulder sympathetically, inhaling loudly. "Well, we just settled down with Phoenix, and Aspen's on the way… but if it's what you really want, I wouldn't hold you back. I'd come too."

Gale grappled for her hand and gave it a settling squeeze. "No… I don't want to have to drag you, or the kids, into anything you aren't for."

Johanna shushed him, nuzzling his shoulder, her short, feathery hair tickling his jaw. "No, I want you to be happy. You know, we could always visit before, and make up our minds then… we're in no hurry, hun. We don't have to decide yet."

She withdrew her head languidly, and reached up to caress his cheek with her thumb; all he offered was a sheepish, half-hearted smile, which Johanna didn't approve of.

"Hey, look at me," she voiced firmly. "It's all going to be alright, okay?" He glanced up to meet her gaze; in the dreary lighting of their room, her eyes twinkled like obsidian, comforting him.

"Okay," he caved, a smile flickering across his mouth. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Jo."

The woman grinned back at him successfully, but was struck with a sudden thought, and went instantly to chewing her lip, as she always did when a fit of anxiety was jeopardizing her health. "Gale… you don't want to go back to be with her, do you?"

"What?" Gale spat in shock, flabbergasted. "No… no! You should know better Johanna. I love you; simply seeing _her _wouldn't make me feel anything for her again. She's my best friend, but none of this is about her. You know that."

Johanna could only shrug; she believed her husband, but she desired strongly to know everything he was feeling about today's experiences, about the girl on fire. She had, however, faith and trust in Gale beyond reconcile, and decided she would let him explain when the time was right. She knew he only loved her, that Katniss wouldn't be a problem, but it still irked her.

"Whatever you say, hotshot," was all Johanna murmured.

"Johanna—" he started, but never finished his sentence, jolting forwards to kiss her. Gale ran a hand up her spine and clutched the short hair above the nape of her neck, the other hand holding the small of her back; she responded fervently on instinct, shoving her body against his and sucking on his lips harder, her tongue tracing the back of his teeth. Gale broke away from the passionate liplock to say something, his forehead pressed against hers.

"It was never her, you know," he mumbled. "I thought it was, then, but it wasn't.  
>It was always you, just you."<p>

Gale stretched out his neck and began to kiss her again. However, the young man paused when he sensed his lips brushing against her teeth; she was smiling. Perhaps she'd even been teasing all along. "I know," she breathed into his mouth. "I know."

She clambered on top of him eagerly, biting his tongue and grinding their heated bodies together roughly with an irresistible friction. Gale spontaneously required that same closeness as many a time before, and he was starved for her; he needed to emulsify himself in her, immerse his entire being in all that she was. Both belligerent and benevolent, she was everything to him, the absolute quintessence of passion. Never before had he encountered a force so appealing, so tantalizing, so unique. And no matter what, she was always his.

Gale finally realized he never had to run from fire ever again; however, curiously enough, it only attracted him to Johanna's fire more. He didn't want to be burned, he wanted to be incinerated. So, as she cupped her hands around his neck and kissed him, pulling him lower and closer to her, he was haunted with no more worries, and no curiosity for the approaching embers he would willingly kick up into sparks on his return. Instead, he let all of himself go to her, as was always his habit, and let her drag him into the inferno.


End file.
